


Subtle Differences

by cl2y



Category: Dishonored (Video Games), Dishonored 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Almost Plotless, First Time, Have Sex with your Body Double, M/M, Not Beta Read, PWP, Power Imbalance, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 17:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11189499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl2y/pseuds/cl2y
Summary: Duke Abele had been graced with an almost identical body double, but there are a certain areas that, up to now, had been left unchecked to give both men a reasonable sense of privacy.





	Subtle Differences

There were subtle differences between the men if you knew what to look for. Luca’s eyes looked older, Armando’s nose was flatter, Luca’s teeth were slightly crooked and Armando’s were smoked stained. Subtle things, Luca thought peering over at the other man over the rim of his tumbler, such subtle things. But there were certain aspects of his body double that he hadn’t yet seen, and had honestly never even had to think about seeing, but there was a particular incident that could have been his undoing in public. Armando had slipped into someone’s bed -how dare he- and the man, unknowing it was not Luca who had engaged him, had the gall to flirt with the Duke over a wine glass about that other night.

He had played along with no other option. But it brought questions to mind, after he had stern words in the shape of fists with his body double, about what the man looked like under his clothes. Would there be subtle differences in the shape of his cock, the length of it, if it curved to one side, was he still fully intact? The thoughts had poisoned his mind at such at rate that his own cock failed him in the presence of some of his favourite bed partners. _Humiliating_. At least he had the ability to blame it on the wine, and spread the rumour that it had been Armando in bed with them and not Luca himself.

So he had invited Armando up to his rooms, and had ordered all the guards out. Gifted him whiskey from a venom hand, and offered him fruits and cheeses from foul soil. Armando knew to wait, to all others he might be the Duke of Serkonos, but alone in this room he is the real Duke’s propping stand. It was odd to be so close to the other man like this, they often went about Luca’s mansion separately, to confuse any would be assassins and to grant them their own privacy.

Armando liked to paint, to paint for the Duke to take all of the credit, and suffer the insults of Luca’s own disastrous art. Luca liked to fuck, to drink and spend and fuck. His body double was never allowed to do such base things, after all Luca had been kind enough to let the man continue smoking despite never garnering the taste for such things.

“How big are you?” Luca said, a rush of air escaping from his lungs like a waterfall.

“What I eat is-” Armando began, confused. Every week he is stripped to his underthings and weighed, his waist is measured, the size of his thighs, his arms, his gut-

“Your cock.” He huffed. Armando didn’t know what to say, his cock was never measured, he’d always assumed it was because nobody knew what size Luca had, or because he was never allowed to attend the orgies that the Duke planned. “Take off your clothes.”

“Your Grace-”

“Take them off. Get on the bed.” Luca grumbled, and knocked back his whiskey, standing to approach the body double. Armando feels his lungs empty and his skin prickle when Luca is inches from him, a shine in his eyes and his lips wet. This wasn’t meant to happen, he should have known from the odd kindness that the Duke had presented to him that something was off. The privacy, the large circular bed with cleaned sheets, the whiskey, the unendurable silence.

Luca’s knuckles run across the length of Armando’s groin, gently, a touch that was barely even noticeable but for the intensity in the Duke’s eyes that gave it an obvious presence. Armando’s fingers twitched, he could grab his hand and stop him, he might take another beating but it would be better than... whatever this is. Wouldn’t it? The Duke may spread himself around like a common man but this was something different, something that the seven strictures might find unholy. As much as he’d like the man to fall, he’s hardly inclined to go down along as well.

But there’s a small part of him, buried under a thousand other things, when he looks at the Duke who wears the same face as him, that wants to know what it’s like to fuck yourself. To watch yourself, red faced and sweating, knowing that it’s not just a mirror but a whole other person pressing down in between his thighs. Armando’s breath stutters at Luca’s grin, he’d thought to much on it, and with the slow knuckled caress across his cock it had brought the beginnings of a swell to his groin.

“You’ve thought about this,” Luca states, his voice gravelled and hushed, “you’re thinking about what you want me to do to you right now.”

“Your Grace,” Armando starts, knowing that the Duke is right, but knowing that less than half of him is opposed to the idea. He means to protest, to voice his words that this is wrong, that no matter how vile Luca might be this may be a touch too far.

“Luca.” His lips ghost against Armando’s cheek.

“I can measure myself,” he whispered, this isn’t a good idea, he knows he needs to stop this. But telling the Duke ‘no’ hasn’t ever gone down well with anyone else who had tried, “I can.” He repeats, if only he would back away, and this can all be forgotten. Nobody could say that Armando had been the Duke’s disgrace, that he had pulled him into events so taboo.

“I want to see it.” Luca whispered, both hands grabbing Armando’s hips and pulling him flush against him. “I want to feel it. I want to watch you come undone, and I want to watch you come.” Armando whimpers almost inaudibly. But the bastard Duke heard him, and in a swift push he’s on his back amongst the clean sheets with Luca bearing down on him like a predator.  “Show me how you kiss.” It’s all Luca says before their lips are pressed together.

Armando tastes like fruit and ash, and Luca finds it addictive. He’s lying atop the other man, one thigh pressed in between Armando’s, pressuring his cock beneath his clothes.

“Do you always lie so still?” Luca said. He has Armando half pinned beneath him, his legs apart, and the body double can’t find it within himself to touch the Duke. He doesn’t know what Luca likes, not in such intimacies like this, the Duke is well known for his extravagant parties which devolved into something akin to a writhing mass of sweating bodies. But this is smaller, this is private, this isn’t something the Duke should be doing with his body double. He reminds himself. But knowing they’ve come this far, does it matter any longer? The guards could rush in and find the Duke and the political decoy in bed together, and what exactly could they do. They’re all under Luca’s thumb; Luca isn’t even at any risk right now, and Armando can’t decide whether that’s more exciting or not.

“What do you want me to do?” He whispers, his hands lifting from the bed sheets and caressing the Duke’s waist.

“I want you to fuck me, like you did that nobleman,” He kisses him harder, “I want to know what made him so self assured that he could come to me and-” Armando kisses him harshly, one arm wrapping around Luca’s shoulders and the other pushing himself upwards and making to shift backwards. Luca moans in his mouth, crawling after the other man as he takes them to the centre of the bed. It’s the little permission that Armando needs, he’s not the Duke nor his equal, but the playing field is as level as it could be.

Armando rolls them over, and it’s new for the Duke to experience someone taking control like that. People tiptoed around him even when they were all drunk and naked. Luca decides he likes it for now, with Armando straddling his thighs and pulling away his layers until he’s half naked. The fine clothes are tossed across the room, landing where they may, replaced by Luca’s calloused palms across his gut. A fine thing of an illusion, thick muscle under fat, moulding to his hands like the pommel of a gun.

The Duke grabs at Armando’s chest, pushing at it like he was a woman, and grunts at how well he reacts to it. He sits up, one hand around Armando’s waist to keep him steady, and mouths at his chest. Kisses it and bathes him with his tongue, drinking in the moans that slip from Armando’s throat. His crooked teeth leave a halo of crevices around Armando’s nipple, perked and wet under the abuses of the Duke’s tongue. The body double holds him there, pushing into his mouth, his hand anchoring in Luca’s short hair and forcing him closer.

Armando clutches at the Duke’s clothing, throwing it with the same grace that he had done with his own. The medallion hangs between them; it creates an awkward pause between the two men when they spy it, a subtle reminder of exactly who they are. Any power he gains from pretending to be the Duke slips away with their clothes, he decides to ignore the falter, he wants this, they both do.

 But Armando only uses it to drag the Duke up to kiss him once more. Luca grinds his hips up, hands on Armando’s waist to push him down into the motion. They both think it’s an odd combination of unusual and arousing to hear the other moan, their voices almost identical as they gasp into each other’s mouths. Luca is louder, so proud of his pleasure that he wants others to know what he’s experiencing.

“I thought I told you to take off your clothes.” Luca hissed, biting across his jaw and moaning into his ear. He slaps Armando’s thigh when the man eagerly clambers off, kicking out of his boots and yanking his trousers and underthings off in a rush. The Duke watches and palms at his own cock through his clothes. Armando’s body, and in turn his own to which it is modelled, is incredible. Strong thighs, a thick waist, broad shoulders, and with a glance down, there hangs a thick wet cock between his legs.

The body double waits under Luca’s scrutinising gaze, and rises up onto his knees to display himself at his behest. It reminds him of when he used to kneel in front of a mirror and watch himself masturbate. Sometimes he’d lie on his back with his legs spread and slip his own fingers inside of him, but this is different. It feels less perverted knowing he’s being looked at by another person, and not just his own eyes, even if they’re a mimic of his own.

A minute long stare and the Duke knows most of what he needs to know, they’re about the same size, and thankfully Armando has nothing abnormal about his sex. He reaches out and wraps his hand around it, thumbing the tip and pulling back the foreskin. Luca plays with it like he’s examining his own cock for the first time all over again.  He feels the weight of Armando’s bollocks in his palm, the smooth texture of the head, how Armando reacts when his fingers make a tightening ring around his cock’s base.

Luca slips carefully from the rest of his clothes, and with a quick glance at Armando he throws them across the room and pulls his body double in to kiss him again. They roll with the motion, Luca’s medallion hitting the other in the chest once he’s situated on top and between his thighs. He presses their cocks together, almost identical, but with small, subtle differences. Armando has a freckle on the underside of his, and Luca’s doesn’t quite reach the stark redness that the other does. None of it matters when oil is dripped between them, and their sex grinds together like it was what they were made for.

The Duke grunts into the other’s neck, loud and biting, moaning at Armando’s manicured nails dragging along the length of his back. They roll their hips together, legs tangled and the sheets around them crumpling under their weight.

“Yes, Luca.” Armando moans, his fingers tightening around his frame. The Duke’s lips moved up his neck in harsh open mouthed bites, kissing across his jaw and tasting sweet fruits and ash on his tongue. His body double arches and throws his head back when Luca’s pace speeds up, and when Armando’s voice becomes a warbling cry he slows down so there’s barely any friction between them. Teasing, the cruel bastard is teasing him.

He tries to flip them so he’s on top, but the Duke presses his weight down harder, and chews at his earlobes and licks down his neck. Groaning aloud when Armando’s hands grip his arse so tightly the reddened flesh starts to pale around his fingers. He manipulates Luca into thrusting harder and faster, both of them flushed and with sweat beading between them.

Armando watches with half lidded eyes as the Duke speeds towards his orgasm, his name on his lips. His mouth hangs open, half made grunts spilling from his throat, his hands grappling for what they can, until he spills between them. He shouts as he does, loud and performing, drowning out the stuttering silence of Armando’s own pleasure as he follows him over the edge.

Luca wants nothing more than to lie where he is, and his body double allows him to, ignoring the wetness between them and the way his sweating back sticks to the bed sheets. At least the Duke has the blessing of cool air across his skin; Armando has to wait until he rolls off to one side before it can grace his body. The soft caress of Luca’s fingers on his bicep is a gift, a strange kindness from such a tyrant. He glances down to the mess smeared across his gut, and softly laughs at the reversed imprint of the Duke’s medallion on his chest.

They both fall asleep amidst the chaos, as unwise as it may be; both men are inclined to sleep after such intimate exertions.

Armando has the grace to waken first, slipping into his things and making sure he looks presentable as Luca once more, before he exits the room. He orders the guards to wait until his guest is ready to leave before they enter, to spare the Duke what little remains of his dignity.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
